


The Beat that My Heart Skipped

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter had told Neal to stay in the car</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beat that My Heart Skipped

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspired by [this picture from AoS](http://i.imgur.com/wgMMjJ6.png). Title is from the movie _De battre mon cœur s'est arrêté_.

  
**The Beat That My Heart Skipped**

 

  
Peter was furious. The operation had been a bust. The criminals had managed to slip through their fingers and escape. To add insult to his ego’s injury they got away with the gold. It was a clear and total failure.

Somewhere, something had failed. Either the intel wasn’t as solid as Peter had thought, or someone had tipped off their target. Either way, they were gone, and Peter would have to justify to the higher-ups how this happened despite the request for extra resources and manpower. He tore off his bullet-proof vest and headed back to his car, wondering how the hell it could have gone so wrong.

The blast of the explosion threw him backward several feet and an excruciating pain crossed his temple as something violently hit his head. He saw millions of stars and everything disappeared into dark oblivion.

 

\------------------------------------------

_“You stay in the car.”_

_“But, Peter…”_

_The radio crackled. “Everyone is in position, boss.”_

_“I don’t have time to argue. They’re armed and dangerous. For once in your life, please, do what I tell you. Stay here.”_

_Peter adjusted his bullet-proof vest and rushed out of the car to join the assault team before Neal could get a chance to say anything more._

 

\------------------------------------------

  
Peter slowly came to. His head was hurting, and his mouth tasted blood. The sound of a siren was piercing through his aching skull. As he regained consciousness, he caught the screams and the chaos all around. Everything sounded distant and muffled.

Someone touched him and Peter snapped his eyes open. It was a paramedic. He was talking, but Peter’s ears were buzzing so strongly that he couldn’t hear anything.

The smell of fire caught in his throat, and with it, a terrible bad feeling. His heart tightened violently and the sound suddenly came back, assaulting him.

_Neal._

He jumped to his feet and looked in the direction of his car where he had told Neal to stay. The car was now a giant inferno, consumed by large flames as a cloud of dark thick smoke rose into the sky.

It felt like a second explosion had hit him.

“Neaaal!”

He needed to get him out, run to the car, but everything was spinning around him, and he collapsed in the paramedic’s arms, light-headed, dizzy, and his heart shattered in a million pieces.

“Sir, don’t move, stay calm. Let me assess your injuries,” the paramedic said, forcing Peter to sit back on the ground.

Peter tried to resist, stumbling back to his feet, but his body wasn’t cooperating, and the paramedic’s hold was too strong. He fell back on the pavement.

“Neal,” he said frantically, grabbing the paramedic’s sleeve, “Neal was in the car.”

He shot a desperate look at his car. Firefighters were already surrounding it, flooding it with their fire hoses.

“I told him to stay in the car…”

The pain in his chest was overwhelming. It raised, sharp, acute, until it caught in Peter’s throat. He choked up and the tears ran down his eyes, burning and bitter. He pressed a hand against his forehead. The irrepressible sob was making his head hurt even more violently, but the agony in his heart was even worse.

He had told Neal to stay in the car. It was his fault. Neal was dead because of him.

Inconsolable, he let the paramedic assess him without paying much attention, barely answering his questions as he continued to cry his heart out. A gurney was brought, and somehow, he found himself lying on it.

 

\------------------------------------------

  
Neal was losing patience. Why was it taking so long for the pedestrian light to turn white? Everything was against him today. Peter who wouldn’t let him join the take-down, the endless line at the coffee shop that transformed a quick coffee run into a long and nerve-racking hassle. Not to mention that they got his order wrong and that now the light refused to turn white…

Peter had to be back by now and his CI wouldn’t be in the car. So much for trying to play good today…

Finally the cars stopped at their red light and Neal hurried. In a perfectly negotiated curve, he turned the corner. He was almost there. He could see the car now, a couple blocks away, though he was too far to see if Peter was in the car. Keeping his eyes on the car, Neal zigzagged in the crowd while trying not to spill his coffee.  
All of a sudden, right in front of his eyes, the car exploded. For a second, his heart stopped beating and Neal dropped his coffee.

“No no no!”

His running was now frantic. He didn’t even look for oncoming cars as he crossed the last pedestrian line.

“Peter!” he screamed, his fear growing as he watched the fire consuming the car in large flames and a thick dark smoke.

A crowd was already forming, blocking the way, and Neal’s view. “Peter!” Neal called again.

Policemen were already on the scene, containing the crowd at a safe distance.  A fire truck arrived, followed by an ambulance, all sirens on.

Neal went to an officer forming the security line. “My partner was in the car,” he urged. “Let me go.”

“Sorry, sir, you can’t go beyond this line. You need to go around the block.” the police officer said, irritably laconic.

“You don’t understand, I need to check on my partner! Peter!” Neal yelled, ignoring the disapproving looks from the officer.

Neal desperately scanned the area. Firefighters were working on the fire. Farther in the distance, paramedics attended a small group of people who had been injured in the explosion.

Suddenly, Neal spotted him. Peter was being hauled to a gurney. He had blood all over his face and looked in pain. But alive.

Neal’s momentum was stopped dead by the police officer. Neal suddenly looked intensely to his left, pointing at something. As he expected, the policeman followed the direction Neal pointed. Taking advantage of his distraction, Neal slipped to his right and managed to pass the security line.

He ran across the street, ignoring the angry calls behind him.

“Peter!”

 

\------------------------------------------

  
Peter held his breath. Someone was calling his name. He was almost afraid to formulate the thought. _Neal_. Could it be?

He sat up. His vision got blurry but he resisted the paramedic’s attempt to force him down. Neal was running his way. Neal wasn’t in the car. Neal was right there.

Neal reached him just in time for Peter to collapse in his arms. Peter clung to him, and buried his face in Neal’s chest.

“Neal,” he whispered, as painful sobs shook his body. “You were not in the car.”

Neal passed his arms around him and patted his back. “I went for a coffee run… And it took longer than expected.”

Peter chuckled and his laugh mixed with the tears. “A coffee run,” he echoed, incredulous.

Neal continued to soothe him gently. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here. I’m fine.”

Peter kept his hold, clinging to Neal, until the sobs gradually subsided and he slowly regained control of himself.  He finally pulled away to look at Neal. The young man’s suit was spattered with blood.

Peter looked at him apologetically. “I’ve ruined your suit.”

Neal laughed and shook his head. “And you owe me a coffee.”

Peter leaned back on the gurney, exhaustion and injury finally getting the best of him. He was hauled into the ambulance and Neal climbed behind him. Peter reached out and Neal grabbed his hand.

“Suit, yes, coffee, no,” Peter whispered before passing out.

 

FIN.

 

 **Additional note:** So I started writing this in december. _Before_ the finale. At the time I thought "man this is big, this is emotional. Peter thinks Neal is dead for like 15 minutes!". And This is probably the limit of what I can inflict to Peter. Really. And then, the finale happened... But hey, it was half written already, and I couldn't just leave it there, right?

 

 

 


End file.
